


Drummer Boy

by tyronexx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Gallavich, M/M, band au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyronexx/pseuds/tyronexx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Mickeys band <i>The Southern Glow</i>  plays a gig in Chicago, where he meets the gorgeous Ian Gallagher. He makes his move but gets turned down, but Mickey's not about to give up. He has to see him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Southern Glow

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! ♥

_"Holy fuck!"_

It took a moment for Ian Gallagher to figure out who was yelling through the whole house, but when he realized it was the voice of his little sister Debbie, he jumped up from his bed and ran towards her room.

"What happened?", he asked breathlessly, sighing in relief when he saw the teenager sit on her bed in one piece, the family notebook on her lap and her best friend and partner in crime Holly next to her. Both girls had their eyes glued on whatever was on the laptop screen and their mouths were wide open, hands intertwined, squeezing so hard their knuckles were turning white.

"Debs? What's up? Everything okay?"

There were a few moments of silence, then Debbie pushed the Laptop onto the bed next to her and both girls started screaming and jumping up and down the whole room, hugging each other in hysteria. There was a lot off babbling and sobbing and the only words Ian could understand clearly were 'The Southern Glow' which didn't make much sense either.

Debbie and Holly were still freaking out when Lip joined his brother in the door frame, cigarette between his lips and a confused look on his face as he watched what was happening in Debbies bedroom.

"Are they excited or sad?", he asked and offered his brother a drag from the cigarette.

"No fucking clue. They're not making sense." Lip nodded and shrugged. "Well, let's find out."

Without further ado, he walked inside the room, grabbed Debbie by her shoulders and shook her until she calmed down. With her rosy cheeks and the widened eyes, she looked so much like an excited little girl, not like the moody, annoying fourteen year-old she was nowadays.

"Debbs. Use your words," Lip ordered and she took a deep breath before answering.

" _THE SOUTHERN GLOW ARE COMING TO CHICAGO TO PLAY A SPECIAL CONCERT HERE."_

The two boys exchanged a questioning look and Holly chipped in to explain the matter.

"The Southern Glow. Rockband from Chicago and they're fucking amazing. They just announced on their facebook that they'll be playing a special gig here in Chicago in March, with a meet and greet after and" she paused as if to give her following words the respect they deserved "we _have_ to go."

Ian laughed and went over to the bed to take a look at the laptop screen. The Southern Glow had 4 Million Likes and Ian seriously wondered how he could have never heard of the band before if they were that famous. They were indeed playing a gig in some bar in Chicago, called 'The Alibi', a small venue, that could hold only 100 people in a couple of weeks.

Lip, who had already lost interest in the matter, left the room and Holly and Debbie sat down next to Ian, staring at the little flyer that was posted.

 

**BACK TO THE ROOTS**

_To thank their amazing fans for their MTV Video Award,_

_the Southern Glow invite_ _**you** _ _to come to their Special Bonus Show_

_on_ _**March, 12th** _ _in_ _**The Alibi Room, Chicago, IL.** _

_There are very limited tickets, so be quick and head over to_

_www.southernglow.com_ _to get your exclusive ticket to meet the boys._

_(The venue requires everybody under age to be accompanied by someone 18+)_

 

"They usually only play stadiums these days and those tickets are too expensive. We _need_ to go now!", Debbie explained, earning an agreeing nod from Holly.

"So how come I've never heard of them, ever?", Ian asked sitting down in the bean bag opposite to the girls. Debbie wasn't very talkative since puberty had really started to hit so he took the chance when she seemed to be okay with talking to her big brother. The girls looked at each other and rolled their eyes at Ians ignorance, but Holly, playing with a strand of her long, blonde hair, started to explain.

"The Southern Glow is a Rock Band from the Southside of Chicago. They are three guys, Vince, singer and guitarist, Chris on the bass and Mickey, the drummer. They started out playing on the streets of Chicago and got discovered by an agent of Universal Music. They got a record deal and they got big, basically over night after that."

"Plus, they're amazing and super hot and totally our age!", Debbie added and Ian laughed at the comment.

"Oh really? How old are they?" The girls exchanged another look and Holly clicked on the pictures section of the Facebook Fanpage, opening one of the band photos.

"Vince and Chris are 18 and Mickey is twenty." Ian chuckled amusedly and tried to remember if he had seen any of those guys on the pictures before. It was very pixelated and after studying the shot, the only thing he knew for sure, was that two of those boys were blonde and one had dark hair.

"Debbie, that's my age, not yours!" The redhead shrugged and clicked through the album of pictures.

"Holly likes Vince the most, you know, because he's the singer and all, but I think Mickey's the hottest. I like a bad boy." Ian huffed at the words. That was not something he liked to hear.

"You're fourteen, you don't need a 21 year-old bad boy, Debbie. No way." His sister rolled her pretty eyes at him and pointed towards a picture of that Mickey guy. It showed the brunet crouched down on the floor, pointing his fists into the camera to show off his knuckle tattoo, that read 'FUCK U-UP'.

"Charming," Ian commented and playfully shoved his pouting sister.

 

* * *

 

The disappointment was big, when after clicking the link on the flyer, the tickets were already sold out, so the next day, Ian's mission was to somehow score a couple of tickets for the Bonus show. Debbie's birthday was coming up and this was the perfect gift to score some best big brother points.

After emailing and not getting any replies, calling the ticket agency, Ian quit the legal way and went to talk to Lip, his go-to guy for anything remotely against the law. Unfortunately, this time, his brother was no help, so Ian went to his last resort, the little copy shop on main street, that was known for its Grade A forgeries of any kind.

Faking three tickets would cost a totall of 150 bucks, which was a lot but if he did a few extra shifts at the gym he was working at, he would be able to come up with the money.

Therefore followed two month of working over hours, getting very little sleep and basically no free time at all.

It was all worth it though, when on Monday, the 11th of March, Ian marched into his sisters room and flopped down on her bed, sighing dramatically. Debbie was sitting at her desk, studying for school and watched him with raised eyebrows and a deprecating expression in her freckled face, as he stood silent and played with her teddy bear, the only one she allowed herself to still sleep with, now that she was, in her opinion, an adult.

"What do you want?" Debbie asked, clicking her tongue impatiently. She had gotten over the disappointment of not being able to get to meet her crush after a couple of days, but now that the day of the show had been approaching, her moods were unbearable.

"So that show you wanted to go to," he began and he saw his sister's eyes light up as the idea of the reason for his visit to her room popped into her head.

"Yeah?", she asked excitedly and got up to stand in front of the bed. Ian took his time with his answer, slowly lifting himself up into a seating position, then pulling the envelope with the fake tickets out of his pocket. Debbie's face fell, as she stared at the little piece of paper in her brothers hand.

"You still wanna go?" Debbie nodded and started squealing again, just like when she had first found out about the concert.

"YES OF COURSE. Is this what I think it is?" Ian laughed and handed her the envelope and she screamed as she smothered her brother with a hug. They landed on the bed and Debbie didn't let go until she decided it was time to call Holly and tell her the good news.

"The spare ticket _is_ for Holly, isn't it?" Debbie asked, while she was already calling her best friend, sighing relievedly when Ian nodded. "Good, thank god, because that would've been awkward!"

Holly came over as soon as the two girls got off the phone and what followed was a marathon of screaming and crying and sheer, pure happiness and an occupied bathroom. They were trying different outfits, discussing make-up looks and unless you wanted to talk about Southern Glow, you'd better not attempt to speak to any of the two.

At night, after they had very responsibly decided that they needed enough sleep to be at their best tomorrow, when Holly had gone home, Ian brought his sister warm milk with honey to calm her down. He doubted she would get any sleep, as pumped as she was, but he would still try.

 

The next evening at seven, Ian made his way to his neighbor Kevin to borrow his car for their journey to the venue that was at the northside of town. He picked Debbie up and made a big deal out of holding the door open for her and complimenting her on her looks, which consisted of a light blue jeans with big holes at the knees and thighs and a simple, black T-shirt with the Southern Glow Logo on the chest.

"You look beautiful, Debbs," Ian stated and tugged at one of her red locks. She smiled and thanked her brother, before saying goodbye to the family.

"I hope Holly isn't wearing something too provocative. They won't even look at me when I stand next to her!"

Fiona and Lip, who were standing on the porch to send them off, rolled their eyes and shook their heads vehemently. The oldest Gallagher sibling pulled the teenager into a hug and didn't let go until Debbie decided that was enough contact for one evening.

"You're gorgeous, Debbie. Don't even worry about it."

"Exactly," Lip agreed "Holly's a trash bag in comparison to you, little lady. Now go and use your shiv if anyone tries to touch you, okay?" Debbie rolled her eyes, flicked her hair out of her face and jumped down the stairs into the old pickup truck.

 

* * *

 

The Alibi Room was a small venue that didn't even look like it would be able to hold 100 people. There was a bar in the back, a small stage in the front and a dancefloor between the two that was already bursting with giddy teenage girls.

Traffic had been crazy and it was only five minutes until the show officially started. The girls were out of his sight as soon as they entered the place, so Ian sat down at the bar, ordering a beer while he let his eyes wander around the room. The girls were all around Debbies age, dressed in short clothes and wearing too much makeup, while the childlike excitement sparked in their eyes.

The Southern Glows set started twenty minutes late and the room went crazy when the three boys entered the stage. The singer Vince, who also did most of the talking, had white/bluish hair. He was about as tall as Ian, with broad shoulders and legs in very tight skinny jeans. Not really Ian's type.

The bassist looked like he could be the singers twin, only difference being his blonde, wavy beach hair and the bored look on his face, as if he didn't really want to be there. He also kept drinking out of the water bottle beside him and by the way he grimaced after every swallow, Ian highly doubted that it was really water.The drummer he couldn't really see because he was barely visible behind his big drumset. He also hadn't talked at all so Ian knew nothing new about Debbies big 'bad boy' crush.

Three beers and one and a half hour later, Vince announced the last song of the evening and Ian had to admit, they weren't half bad if you liked that kind of mainstream pop/rock thing that most bands were doing these days. They announced they would go and take a shower and then come back out for the Q&A.

Ian ordered two cokes when he saw Debbie and Holly steering towards him, faces flushed and talking flutteringly.

"Oh my god. Did you see them, Ian? Weren't they amazing?" Debbie flopped down on the seat opposite to him and downed half the glass of coke Ian offered her. With a thankful smile, Holly grabbed the other one and did the same.

"I did see them. I was here the whole time, Debs." The redhead nodded excitedly. Suddenly, Holly grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly.

"When they played 'Wasting Time', _Vince winked at me._ He winked. At. ME." She dug her nails into Ians arm and he squealed uncomfortably.

"Okay, relax. I'm happy for you, but like, could you not scar me?"

He didn't get an answer because in that moment, the band came back on stage, with damp hair, casual clothes and drinks in their hands. Ians eyes caught the sight of the drummer now, he was short, with broad shoulders and strong arms, peeking out of his grey V-neck and his legs were kind of short, his jeans stuffed into big brown working boots.

"Hi guys, we're back and ready to start the Q&A now. Who's got questions?" Every single arm in the venue shot into the air and a petite woman in a pencil skirt and a beige blouse tottered to one of the girls and handed her a microphone.

"Hi, my name is Linda. I just wanted to say that I love you guys and my question is..." Ian stopped paying attention, he ordered another beer and tried to see if he could spot Debbie in the mass of girls, now sitting on chairs and cushions in front of the stage, when two humongous breasts blocked his sight.

"Hi, handsome!", the blonde woman breathed as she let one of her long slim fingers trail down his bare arm. Ian forced himself to smile and looked into the face of a middle aged woman, probably a mom of one of the girls, who was eyeing him like he was a piece of fresh meat. He wasn't in the mood for flirting and he definitely wasn't interested, so he decided to make this short and sweet.

"I'm sorry, I'm gay."

The woman lowered her hand and pouted, but backed off immediately. "That's a real shame." She searched for something in her purse, then handed him a card with her information on it. "In case you ever change your mind!" And with another wink she was gone.

Ian read through the card and, when he was sure the woman was out of sight, tossed it on the floor behind him. Usually he kept those kind of things to give to Lip when he got home, but he doubted even Lip would hit that. When he focussed his attention back on the stage, he noticed someone staring at him.

The drummer was sitting in an armchair on stage, casually leaned back, his legs parted and spread out to full length and he was staring at Ian with an interested smirk on his pale face, winking, when he noticed that he had gotten his attention. Ian did that totally cliché thing, where he turned around to check if there was some girl behind him that he hadn't noticed and the drummer laughed and took a sip of his beer. The bartender slid Ian another beer and the guy on stage raised his own tauntingly. Ian grinned and made a gesture of toasting towards him.

"Next Question, please!" The woman fluted and gave the mic to another girl.

"My question is for Mickey," she squeaked and the guy reluctantly focussed his attention on her. Right, Mickey was his name.

"Ey," he greeted and the girls face turned fifty shades of dark red.

"Hi. I was wondering if you have a girlfriend at the moment?"

The guys eyes flipped towards Ian for a second, then he grinned and shook his head. "Nah, not right now." There was excited squealing everywhere in the room and the guy shrugged indifferently. He seemed so out of place in this situation but he didn't seem to care at all. He kept nursing his beer and Ian turned his back to the stage, because he didn't know what else to do.

He couldn't go up and talk to the guy while he was in the middle of the interview thing and he didn't want to just sit there and stare at him like a lovesick puppy, so he chatted with the bartender, played with his phone and unobtrusively listened up, everytime Mickey started talking.

The questions & answers thing went on for a good half hour, then Chris, whose speech was significantly slurred at this point, opened the buffet for everybody. Ian turned and watched as Debbie and Holly filled their plate with chicken wings and fries and sat down next to that Vince guy the blonde girl loved.

His sight was blocked when someone stepped in front of him, a self-assured look on his face as he eyed Ian up and down.

"You here by yourself?", he asked, taking a seat at the bar next to him. Ian grinned. _How cliché._

"Nah. My sister's over there!" He pointed to where Debbie was sitting, hanging on Vince's every word and she froze when she saw who was sitting with Ian and that he was pointing at her. The drummer acknowledged his words with a simple nod and waved at the bartender who seemed to know his order, because he placed a glass of whiskey on the counter before him.

"What's your name?" Ian smiled. "It's Ian. What's yours?"

That had the musician startled. He gave him a confused look, then smiled intriguedly. Of course Ian knew his name. Debbie had not stopped talking about him in the last few days, but he wasn't going to make this too easy for the drummer. Before he could answer though, a buzzing Debbie appeared next to them, staring at Mickey in awe.

"Uh, hi, Mickey." It wasn't more than a whisper and her excited stuttering made her words hard to understand, so Ian chipped in. He slung an arm around his little sister and pulled her closer.

"This is my sister Debbie I was telling you about!" Mickey's smirk turned to a professional bright smile and he raised a greeting hand towards the redhead.

"Hi, Debbie. I like your hair!" Debbie seemed unable to form a coherent sentence after the compliment, but was saved by the bell when Holly appeared, tugging her shirt down as she leaned on the counter in front of Mickey, blocking the Gallagher from his view.

"Hey, my name's Holly!" She purred and twisted a strand of her hair between her fingers. Mickey raised his brows but forced a smile on his face when he answered. "Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming."

It sounded memorized and insincere, but Holly didn't seem to notice. She stepped back and pulled Debbie next to her.

"We wrote you guys a letter!" she said more shyly now and Debbie pulled a red envelope out of her purse and handed it to him with shaking hands. Mickey smiled at the lipstick kisses on the front and pushed the envelope into his pocket.

"Thank you! I'll show it to the guys later!" The girls squealed and nodded eagerly, then Holly spotted Chris standing sort of by himself, that suspicious water bottle still in his hand and they trailed off to swamp him while they had the chance.

Mickey laughed as he watched them go. "Chris is fucking wasted. I doubt he'll even remember that we played here tonight." Ian smiled and watched how Mickeys whole face seemed to change when he laughed. The usually grumpy expression turned into a bright, shining smile that painted lines around his eyes and on his forehead. His full lips showed white, straight teeth and it was all in all mesmerizing and seemed so out of character somehow, like the smile brought out a whole other guy.

As far as smiles went, Mickey definitely had the most beautiful one Ian had ever seen.

He was about to answer when the woman that had moderated the Q&A approached with steady pace,a worried look on her face that that was covered in a weird red dotted stress rash.

"Mickey, darling. I don't wanna be interrupting, but I need you to interact with the fans. We can't use bad press right now, alright, love? Can you do that for me?" Mickey rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Relax, Meg. Have a drink, settle down. Don't need you to have another qualm."

She nodded, preoccupied and walked off with Mickeys Whiskey between her well manicured hands.

"Manager," Mickey explained and got up. "So will I be seeing you later? Wanna go somewhere once this is over?" Ian laughed.

"Can't. Gotta get the girls home after this." He took another sip of his beer and got his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He was ready for a smoke after this. The drummer clicked his tongue and sighed disappointedly, as he eyed the redhead one more time. "Shame. How about some other time then?"

Ian shook his head, enjoying playing coy. "I'm not that kind of girl." And with that he turned around, leaving the venue and an intrigued Mickey behind.

 

It was a bit of a gamble, blowing Mickey off like that, although he could've easily gone out with him after dropping Debbie and Holly off, but he liked the guy and thought maybe, just maybe, he was good for more than just a quick hookup.

It paid off, when a couple of days later, there was a letter laying on the counter, addresed to Ian with two tickets to the next Southern Glow concert in Chicago early in August, together with a little note with a scribbled on phone number.

Mickey Milkovich had tasted blood. Now he wanted more.


	2. Holding Out For A Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it only took me like 5 years to write chapter two.. Sorry about that.  
> Hope you like this chapter!

**Ian (4:36pm):**

_-you can't buy me with free tickets, you know?_

**Mickey (11:50pm):**

_-i can try.._

**Ian (11:54pm):**

_\- I'm so getting the award for best brother now_

**Mickey (11:55pm):**

_-thought you didn't want the tickets?_

**Ian (11:56pm):**

_-well I can't let them go to waste_

**Mickey (11:59pm):**

_-You wanna see me again, just admit it to yourself so we can get this going._

**Ian (11:59pm):**

_-You're not THAT great_

**Mickey (1:20am):**

**-** I miss you so much. Can't stop thinking about you! Wish you were here then I could talk to you ♥♥♥ your hair is like the fire that burns in my heart for you

 

 

 

_"Who took my fucking phone?"_

 

Mickey ran through the tourbus, wearing nothing more than his boxers and a pair of socks and he was furious. In the lounge area in the back, Chris, Vince and Eric, a gentle giant and their security guard for the night were sat around the table giggling like there was no tomorrow. There was a half emptied bottle of vodka in the center of the table and they all looked pretty hammered. The bus was roaring, the boys were laughing and Mickey was not too far away from freaking the fuck out. He had been unusually happy all day which had nothing at all to do with finally getting a message from the hot redhead he had met at the private concert, or at least, that's what he told himself, and now he couldn't find his fucking phone. Which was especially bad because he knew his bandmates and how much fun they thought it was to fuck with him.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mick?"

 

Vince was barely even sitting at this point. His hair was hanging into his face in dirty strands and his face was so flushed, it looked like he had just come back from running a marathon. He was holding a Corona and, of course, a phone that looked suspiciously similar to Mickeys.

 

"Give me my phone back, asshole. I'm not saying it again."

 

The boys looked at each other trying to refrain from laughing but they failed and Chris was laughing so hard, tears were streaming from his eyes. "Chris, give me that phone, now!"

 

On any other regular tour date, Mickey would have been sitting right there with his bandmates, laughing, drinking and playing xbox, but right now, he just wanted his phone and go to bed. He had texted Ian a few times earlier that night, right after the show had ended, but in all the rush of showering and getting ready to head to the bus to get to the next venue in time, he had lost track of his phone and he was more than sure, that if one of the guys had gotten a hold of it, some weird messages would have been sent to Ian when he got his phone back.

 

Chris and Vince, who'd both turned 18 earlier this year were both so drunk they were barely even awake at this point, so it wasn't too hard to grab the phone out of their hands. He quickly scrolled through his news to check if he had missed any new texts or anything.

 

" YOUR HAIR IS LIKE THE FIRE THAT BURNS IN MY HEART FOR YOU? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" 

 

Mickey was fuming. At this point he was ready to punch those two clowns right in their stupid faces and continue this tour alone. Singing, playing guitar, shoudn't be that hard, right? Before anything else could happen, Mickey stormed off and climbed into his little bunk bed in the bedroom area. Question was, how to get Ian to understand that it hadn't been him who wrote that questionable text. It seemed too late already, when Mickey saw, that Ian had read his message but hadn't replied. 

Later that night, when he was fast asleep, his phone buzzed.

 

**Ian (5:32am):**

_-Um?_

 

Mickey woke up when the bus stopped moving. He grabbed his phone before even opening his eyes and read through his emails. Ians text didn't really up his already bad mood, so he just quietly packed his stuff and walked downstairs to the exit of the vehicle, the hangover from yesterday's after show party pounding in his head. It took another 15 minutes for Vince and Chris to get out of bed and into some clothes. When they were finally ready to go, they put on sunglasses and, after a last deep breath, walked through the door.

 

The flood of cameras and clicking sounds did nothing for Mickeys headache, but he was used to photographers following them around, so he put on a professional smile, stopped for a few autographs and entered the hotel, guarded by the security guards. Annoyingly due some failure of the hotels booking software, rooms were double booked and Mickey ended up having to share a room with Vince. Chris and Meg would share the only other available one. Having Chris be in one room with another girl was actually never a good idea, but they were cousins, so they were safe.

Meg wasn't the most talented manager but she had needed a job when the Southern Glow was just a little garage band that played on the streets of Chicago, so Chris had offered her the job. Now that they were that famous they had a whole managing team to navigate all their different projects going on, but Meg was still along for the ride, responsible mostly for the boys getting on stage in time, or at least not with that much delay.

 

Meg handed them their room cards and Mickey entered the elevator to the 6th floor, Vince scuffing along behind him.

 

"Fuck, my head hurts so fucking bad," the singer moaned, rubbing the temples of his head. Mickey scoffed. He was in no mood to pity a guy who couldn't handle his booze, especially not, if that guy had just ruined his chances with an adonis of a redhead. He had no fucking clue what to text back after what had gone down yesterday, so he had decided simply not to reply at all.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and a lady, reeking of bad perfume entered and her mouth dropped when she saw who was standing inside.

Before she could ask for an autograph or anything else, they reached their floor and with a polite nod, headed to their room.

 

Their luggage had been placed by the front door and there were refreshments and an apology card on the small table by the window. Much to Mickeys relief, there were two double beds in the room, covered with rose pedals and a swan, made from shower towels. He kicked the stuff to the side carelessly and sunk onto the bed. In the beginning these little things had excited him so much and he never actually wanted to sleep because it would have meant he'd have to destroy the decor, but nowadays he just wanted to sleep. Something he never really got anymore, especially not on tour in those tiny bunks in which he couldn't even turn around without falling out.

 

He heard Vince in the bathroom, throwing up and he prayed to god he had reached the toilet. Vince had terrible aim when it came to puking. He debated going in there and see if he needed anything but he decided he was too pissed off and too tired to care. Being the oldest, Mickey was something like the mother hen of the three, but there was only so much he could do for the guys if they decided to be fucking assholes.

A little later he was awoken by Vince jumping on his bed and lying down next to him. He smelled fresh and showered as he crawled underneath his blanket. Mickey sighed.

 

"Vince, what the fuck?" The singer shushed him and crawled closer towards him. Mickey pushed him off and slapped his hands away.

"Did you just shush me, man? Get the fuck out of my bed."

 

Vinces eyes were closed and he was barely even awake anymore.

 

"Relax, Mick. I don't wanna sleep alone and there's no girls around I could call." Mickey thought he must have been hearing things. He opened his mouth to say something, but Vince covered his mouth with his hand.

 

"Generally speaking, I feel like we should cuddle way more." He slung a hand around Mickeys torso and yawned extensively.

"It's not like this is the first time. Now shut the fuck up I'm trying to sleep."

 

With that, at least in Vinces opinion, the conversation was over. Mickey sighed. He was too tired to have this argument right now. Yes, it had happened before that him and Vince had shared a bed. Especially in the beginning when they had started touring and everything had been new and exciting. When they had gotten homesick on lonely nights they had sat in bed together talking all night and yes, they might have kissed once or twice while drunk but it was never anything serious. And never anything regular.

 

Vince wasn't really gay. He preferred woman to men everyday, but generally he just liked closeness and when there was no girls around, he would take a man over sleeping alone any day.

 

Mickey turned his back to the guy and kicked him hard in the shin.

 

"That's for sending that text."

 

And with that he tried to go back to sleep, while Vince behind him yelped in pain. When the pain had worn off, the singer had other plans.

 

"Is your little crush coming to the Chicago concert?" Mickey rolled his eyes growled. He just wanted to sleep.

 

"I don't know, why?"

 

The mattress shook from Vince laughing devilishly.

 

"Oh, I hope he does. I'm gonna make him so uncomfortable." Another growl.

 

"Don't you dare. Now shut the fuck up or you have to sleep in your own bed. And don't touch me, dumbass. Good night."

 

"Night night!"

 

* * *

 

 

It started with a few texts here and there, nothing more. Ian was still following his plan to act coy and be very unavailable, a strategy he had learned from one of the teen magazines that Debbie left lying around the house and Mickey was away on tour which usually made him the unavailable one, while Ian was left at home, or at work, checking his phone every five minutes like a lovestruck teenager.

 

Following the Southern Glow tickets, a few weeks later arrived the first postcard. The tour had taken Mickey to a place called San Jeronimo in Argentina and the front picture showed an old Gaucho leaning against his donkey. The cards didn't usually have much content. If Mickey was having a good day, there sometimes was a greeting scribbled on the back, but usually, they were blank. The only reason Ian was sure these cards actually were from the drummer, was because Debbie knew every stop of every gig the Southern Glow was playing at and so far all the locations had matched the cards.

 

Mickey never asked if Ian was getting the cards from the various places he was traveling to, nor did Ian mention them, so it was all very weird, but it didn't keep the redhead from pinning every single card to the wall above his bed. Covering posters of the US Army and the local ROTC that had been Ians childhood obsession.

 

Another thing neither of them had mentioned again was the weird text he had gotten on the first day, something about Mickey missing him and something else about his hair. He just assumed that Mickey had been drunk or something while writing that. Whatever the reason had been, Ian couldn't help but feel oddly flattered by his words.

 

It was August now and the Southern Glow was playing The Vic Theatre in an hour.

Holly had been staying at the Gallagher House for the last four days and there was no talking allowed to the girls whatsoever. Ian was slightly afraid of what they were doing in Debbies little bedroom, but he thought maybe it was best not to find out at all.

The biggest battle had been finding a reason why the two tickets shouldn't go to Debbie and Holly, because Ian was definitely coming with. Two tickets and three people, it just didn't add up. The vic did not have a rule for underage kids having to be accompanied by guardians, so Ian had to make that rule up. There were a lot of discussion, until Lip was over having to hear Debbie and Holly yelling all day long and just bought another ticket for the blonde.

 

Debbie and Holly's faces were bursting with pride and arrogance when they passed the long line of girls that were waiting for the doors of The Vic to open, to enter the VIP area. A big guy in a suit that fit a little too tight around his belly greeted them with drinks, coke for the girls, a beer for Ian, and lead them backstage. There was a big hall with comfortable looking seats and a huge bar and another door that lead to the dressing rooms.

 

"Welcome to The Vic, guys. This is the backstage area. The boys are getting ready right now, but they usually come out here before the show to greet some fans, so just sit tight and enjoy your night!"

 

He shot them a professional smile and left them be.

 

"This is so cool," Debbie screeched. "I can't believe we're gonna see The Southern Glow again."

 

After their glasses were emptied, the girls went off to go to the bathroom to freshen up their makeup or something like that and Ian was left sitting at the table, nursing his beer while he looked around and realized he wasn't the only good big brother accompanying his siblings.

 

When the girls didn't come back for almost 15 minutes, Ian decided to go to the bathroom as well. Once the band came out he didn't wanna sit there alone like he was waiting for Mickey.

The mens room was very fancy and clean, very different from the bathrooms Ian knew. There was noone else in there, so he stopped at the mirror to check on his hair. Red and slicked back with tons of hair gel, the only way to somehow gain control over it.

 

When Ian stood in front the pissoir the door opened and a light-haired boy came in, wearing very tight skinny jeans and some wide t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He nodded greetingly and walked up to the one next to Ian.

His head did a double take and he looked at him like he remembered him from somewhere. Weirdly, Ian had the same feeling. After a few seconds, it became clear.

 

It was the singer from The Southern Glow, the one Holly liked. Ian wasn't one for bathroom talk, so he kept his eyes straight forward, minding his own business. The singer did no such thing.

He leaned over, eyeing Ian up and down shamelessly.

 

"Dude, I ate too much chilli yesterday." Ian didn't really know how to answer that statement, so he just nodded as he zipped his pants back up. The dude, Vince, if Ian remembered correctly, shrugged.

"It burns, you know? Peeing?"

 

Ian blinked once, twice- he had to have heard that wrong.

 

"Uh, I'm sorry?"

 

Vince shrugged, pulled at his pants and walked out. Ian stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened, then washed his hands and left the bathroom. And Holly liked this guy? He guessed you could say he was very open and happy to share things about him?

The room had changed from when he had been there last. It was pretty filled up with people now. Most of them standing in circles talking to each other. He could see the Vince guy talking to some girls, including Holly and Debbie, so he sat back down where he had left his beer.

 

Mickey entered the backstage area ten minutes later. He stopped by the door, scanning the crowd and his face turned into an amused smirk when he saw Ian sitting there. He was wearing black sweatpants, sneakers and a white V-neck shirt, which was more than flattering in Ians opinion. After stopping by the bar, he approached the redhead with a beer in one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other.

Oddly, people didn't seem to dare to walk up to him to say hello. The eyes of many girls, staring at him longingly, followed him across the room, but nobody could find the courage to actually talk to him.

A happy coincidence, because Ian happened to be totally fine with that.

 

"Fancy seeing you here!"

 

Mickey placed the beer on the table and flopped down on the seat opposite to him. Ian smiled and took a sip before answering.

 

"I wanted you to see my hair that is like the fire that burns in your heart for me," he said with a big smile on his face. Mickey's smirk faded away immediately. He raised his index finger and turned around, looking for someone. Waving, when he had found his victim.

A second later Vince arrived at their table, looking like a punished school boy. Mickey raised his brows and glared at him until he started talking.

 

"You should know that Mickey didn't write that last text he sent, I did."

 

He looked to Mickey as if he was waiting to get the okay to leave again, but Mickey wasn't content yet.

 

"And?"

 

Vince scoffed.

 

"And I'm sorry."

 

Mickey nodded supportingly and took a sip from his whiskey. Vince walked away, but turned around after only a few steps. He leaned down to Mickeys ear and propped himself up on the armrest of his chair. The thing was, although he probably thought he was whispering, he really wasn't. Ian could hear every single word just fine.

 

"Mick, that dude's dick is gigantic. I saw it in the bathroom. Nice work!"

 

He was gone before Mickeys fist could reach any part of his body and the drummers face was turning red with anger alarmingly fast. He turned around to see where Vince was going, but he was already surrounded by a bunch of fans. Ian laughed and shrugged.

 

"Too many witnesses," he warned and Mickey ran a hand over his face.

 

"I need a fucking smoke right now. You coming?"

 

The whole trying to seem unavailable plan went out of the window once Ian already started nodding when Mickey hadn't even finished the sentence. The drummer laughed a little and lead him through the doors to the dressing rooms to his room.

The room was small, a couch in one corner, a table with food and drinks in the other. It smelled like cologne and smoke and a hint of weed but Ian wasn't sure.

Mickey was looking through some clothes in one corner until he finally found what he was looking for. Ian lit up his own cigarette and sat down on the sofa. The other boy flopped down next to him.

 

"Uh, so that Vince guy, he seems..." Ian searched for the right words and Mickey nodded apologetically.

 

"Yeah, he's not that bad. He just has no filter whatsoever."

 

That explained a lot.

 

"Oh, okay. I met him in the bathroom and he talked something about him having eaten too much chili or something?" Mickey shrugged and Ian had a feeling that this wasn't the first time he had heard that story. Apparently Vince just really liked to share. With everyone. All the time.

 

There was an awkward silence where both of them either smoked or drank their drink and Ian did not know what to say. He wanted to sound cool or relaxed how Mickey always seemed, but his mind was blank.

When he couldn't stand the silence anymore, he just made an effort to come up with something.

 

"So, um, thanks for the cards." Mickey raised his eyebrows. Apparently he did not feel like talking about him sending postcards to a dude he barely even knew. So Ian just looked at his hands and shrugged.

 

"Yeah, you're welcome. Not a big deal. I just, um, I don't know."

 

It was uncomfortable. Everything about the conversation. Ian felt uncomfortable, Mickey surely felt uncomfortable and all he wanted to do was get out of there and punch himself in the face for being so fucking shy.

Of all people, it was Meg who finally helped them out of their misery.

 

She stormed into the room, her neck covered with those familiar stress spots and she was freaking out.

 

"Mickey! Help me! Chris is blackout drunk in his dressing room and I don't think he'll be able to play tonight. We only have a couple of minutes until the show starts."

 

The drummer jumped up and got something from his bag in the corner, muttering curses while he followed Meg out of the room. Ian didn't know what to do so he just joined the pair, who cared at this point anyways, right? It already didn't seem like he would see Mickey again after this disaster going on the last few minutes.

 

Chris' room was only a few doors down from Mickey's so they arrived in no time and it wasn't a pretty sight. Chris was lying on the couch, covered in his own vomit, wearing nothing more than boxers and one sock and he was passed out.

Meg and Mickey shook him, screamed at him and tried their best to wake him up but it didn't work.

 

"I gotta get out of here. I can't stand the smell." And with that Meg was out of the room. Mickey shook his head.

  
"You're supossed to be our fucking manager, Meg. What the fuck?"

 

He shrugged helplessly, Ians queue to save the day. He knew exactly what to do in those kind of situation. He couldn't even count how many times he'd had to deal with his dad in the exact same condition, it felt like second nature to him now.

He pushed Mickey to the side, picked Chris up and pulled him into the shower.

The cold water woke him immediately, so he left him there with the order to clean himself up while Ian went outside to the bar and got icecubes, water and some strong coffee. Not the healthiest of options, but if Chris had to play in 15 minutes, there was no other way.

 

When Ian came back to the room, Chris was dried off in fresh clothes and surprisingly, he was awake.

 

"Oh hey, how are we doing?" Ian asked as he handed the boy his drinks. Chris shrugged and grinned dumbfoldedly.

 

"All good. Apparently you're not supposed to mix headache pills and booze? Who'd have thought?"

 

Mickey couldn't believe what he was hearing.

 

"CHRIS, LITERALLY EVERYBODY WOULD HAVE THOUGHT! EVERYBODY."

 

The bassist shrugged indifferently and emptied his cup of coffee.

 

"Don't be dramatic, Mick. Barely anything happened, seriously."

 

Ian laughed and calmingly rubbed Mickeys back, who, by the looks of it, was about to snap.

 

"All good. You guys have to go, I think!"

 

A security guard was waiting by the door to guide them to the stage. Chris got up and, with weak knees but steadily, walked out the door. Mickey lingered, playing with the chain around his neck.

 

"So, uh, thanks I guess." He took a deep breath as if to gain some confidence, then quickly, ran a hand through Ians hair.

 

"Find me after the show!"

 

And without another look he was out the door.

 

 

When Ian got back to the bar area, Holly and Debbie were nowhere to be seen, so he made his way to the stands alone. Gladly, they were both already there, waiting impatiently for the show to start.

When his sister noticed him sliding into the seat next to her, she started boxing his shoulder.

 

"You"  _ slap _ "disappear"  _ slap _ "with"  _ slap _ "Mickey"  _ slap _ "fucking"  _ slap _ " Milkovich"  _ slap _ "AND YOU DON'T TAKE ME WITH YOU? WHAT KIND OF MONSTER?"

 

He was saved when the lights were turned down low and the Southern Glow ran on stage.

 

Holly and Debbie got up and immediately started crying and screaming. Ian wasn't sure if he could go 1 1/2 hours with this kind of noise pounding in his hears. Oh well, at least he could stare at Mickey the entire time.

 

"Hi, we're the Southern Glow. Welcome to The Vic."

 

The music started playing and Chris was already jumping all over the place, laughing like nothing had ever happened. Unfortunately, all Ian could think of, was all that Chilli that Vince had eaten earlier today. One thing he could definitely determine after spending a couple of minutes with a band was that it's not the same once you got to know the musicians. The whole band experience got a little less magical but it was good nonetheless.

 

After a few seconds of the intro, Vince started singing and, as weird of a person as he was, he was a good singer. He had a great voice and he hit all the right notes without effort, it seemed.

 

" _I've been out here waiting way too long_

_I put the radio and hear our song_

_I've been wasting all my time,_

_wasting all my time with you._

 

_It feels like forever since you walked away_

_I wanna be with you, be with you everyday_

_I've been wasting all my time not being with you_ "

 

Halfway through the show, someone grabbed Ians shoulder and made him turn around. It was Meg. Manager Meg who seemed actually, kind of horrible at her job. She looked stressed out and exhausted and she was waving furiously for him to come with her.

Ian didn't want her to freak out or something like that, so he followed her into the corridor of the dressing rooms. Her hand was still twisted into his shirt and she was pulling him more than he was walking by himself.

 

"Ian, is it?" The redhead nodded and detached her hand from his shirt.

 

"Ian, darling, listen. I'm not gonna beat around the bushes with this."

 

She made a dramatic pause and wet her red lips with her tongue.

 

"It might not seem that way, because we're all professionals around here, but it's getting a little too much work for me alone and from what I hear you were pretty capable back there. So I wanted to ask if you want to join us for the next tour as my assistant?"

 

* * *

 

 

The show went on for two hours, after a few encores and a lot of clapping and Ian took the girls with him to say goodbye to Mickey. The boys were standing backstage, all sweaty and tired and Mickey walked up to him as soon as he saw him coming through the door.

He had been great on stage and Ian had felt so weirdly proud watching him getting lost in the music and the screams and chants of his fans.

 

"Hey, did you like the show?"

For once it didn't seem like he was playing some kind of game or like he was flirting, he just seemed happy and like he really wanted to know. Ian nodded and he couldn't help but smile brightly when he saw the pure joy in Mickeys face. Holly left the group to go talk to Vince, but Debbie stayed, her eyes glued to Mickey. The drummer noticed her stares and pulled one of her red locks.

 

"Hi, Debs!"

 

Debbies face practically froze. Her hand clawed into the sleeve of Ians shirt.

 

"Oh my god, hi. You were so great."

 

Mickey took a small bow and Ian nodded.

  
"Yeah, I thought it was really great. Can I talk to you for a second?"

 

Debbie glared at him, but Mickey nodded and they walked a few steps away while Debbie went to join Holly in her conversation.

 

"I heard that Meg talked to you? What was that about?"

 

Ian emptied his beer and grinned.

 

"She wanted me to come on tour with you and be her assistant."

 

He paused and smiled when Mickey seemed to get more and more anxious.

 

"So what did you say, dumbass?"

 

 

 


	3. Chicago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well guess what made me start writing again, because I'd rather live in denial of what happened

 

Ian stopped in front of the rundown apartment complex on main street and he wasn’t quite sure if he was at the right address until he saw Chris in one of the windows, dancing along to the music that was turned up so loudly, Ian felt bad for Chris’ neighbors.

It couldn’t be a great thing, living next to a teenage rock star with too much money on his hands. He opened the door and the music became even louder. He screamed something and waved his hand but all Ian could hear was the rap song that was playing.

“That's my fam, I'll hold 'em down forever  
Us against the world, we can battle whoever  
Together ain't no way gonna fail  
You know I got your back, just like a turtle shell”

The redhead entered the building and climbed up the crooked stairs that led to the floor the music was coming from. After taking the managing assistant job Meg had offered him the night before, his first job was to get to Chris’ house and make sure he had packed everything he needed for the upcoming tour. It was a weird job, in Ian’s opinion, but Meg didn’t seem to trust the boys, so she worked under the mantra ‘better safe than sorry’.

Chris was waiting by his door, wearing Family Guy boxers and an orange V-neck.

“Morning, dude. Meg said you were coming. Come in!”

With his big eyes and the curly hair, Chris looked so young and naïve, it was hard to connect him to the passed out drunk guy he’d been the day before. Right now he was smiling from one ear to the other, as he hopped around to the sound of the music.

“Do you like the song? I’m looking for a hype song for the tour. I’m thinking this suits us pretty well, don’t you think?”

Ian chuckled. He didn’t know much about the band yet, but it definitely suited Chris.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment while Chris eyes wandered up and down his guests body and then his own.

Suddenly he looked a little panicked.

“Oh, um, this isn’t gonna be a problem for you, right?”

Ian furrowed his brows; he had a pretty good idea where this was going and he already had to stop himself from laughing.

“What do you mean?”

If Chris insisted on asking stupid questions like this, Ian was going to make sure he felt as uncomfortable as humanly possible doing it. The musician, whose face turned redder with every second, shrugged and pointed to his boxers.

“Me running around like this? It’s not gonna distract you, right?”

Ian laughed out loud and patted Chris’ shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try and not get aroused by your Family Guy boxers, alright?”

 

 He got a little apartment tour, which literally meant little, because the apartment wasn’t more than two rooms and a little kitchen. There were a few luxurious items in there that definitely showed that Chris had a lot more money than for a simple two bedroom apartment, but all in all, Ian himself could’ve probably afforded this apartment.

He had gotten a list from Meg with things that Chris needed to bring, which seemed odd considering the dude was 18 years old and should have been able to pack his own stuff, but apparently, he wasn’t.

“Where’s your suitcase?” Ian asked as he dug into piles of clothes, most of them worn and smelling pretty bad. Chris didn’t seem to have a clue.

“Ah, man. I don’t really know. Think someone took it after the last house party.”

The sweater Ian was folding almost fell out of his hands.

“What do you mean? Where do you wanna put your clothes then?”

Chris scratched his head and let his eyes wander around the room. His look got caught on the bedsheets.

“We can just wrap ‘em up in those!”

Ian wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not. Chris crawled on the bed and grabbed the sheets. So he was being serious. Ian couldn’t believe it.

“Wait! What are you doing? You think you’ll get through airport security with that?”

Chris shrugged.

“We can put some duct tape on there? Patch it up nicely, they won’t even notice.”

Oh, Ian was quite sure that they would notice that quickly. Eventually they agreed on just getting all of Chris’ stuff ready and Ian would organize a suitcase from somewhere somehow. The process went on slowly, especially when it took them 45 minutes to find Chris’ toothbrush and toothpaste. Ian didn’t want to know what that meant for his dental hygiene, then again, it was none of his business anyways.

As he searched through the mess that was Chris’ apartment, Ian actually found something he found very interesting. On the living room wall, just over the couch on the wall was a framed picture that showed the three boys from The Southern Glow in front of what looked like a tour bus. Vince and Chris were doing some ridiculous pose and Mickey, and this didn’t surprise Ian one bit, was flipping the camera off while trying to hide his face. He was wearing reading glasses that looked so good, Ian prayed to god that he would see him wear them some time during their time on tour together.

“He doesn’t like people to see him in glasses, but I liked the picture, so…”

Chris was standing behind him, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile on his face. Ian looked at him like a deer in the headlights. He hadn’t meant to dumbly stare at the picture but he couldn’t help himself. Mickey in glasses was a sight for sore eyes. He looked like the perfect mixture between smart and sexy.

“Uh, yeah. Um, so, Mickey, he’s probably with his boyfriend right now, huh?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at Ian’s attempts to be inconspicuous and shook his head.

“You think he would try flirting with you if he had a boyfriend? He wouldn’t do that. Mick’s loyal as shit once he commits to something, or someone for that matter, so no worries, Gallagher.”

“What? What are you talking about? That’s not what I meant at all, I just-,” well, he didn’t really know where he was going with that one. Of course it had been his intention to find out a little more about the drummer boy, his other plan to be very unobtrusive about it had failed miserably.

Chris laughed and shortly placed his hand on his shoulder, giving him a knowing nod.

“All good, man. That’s between you guys, anyway.”

 

Very noble words from the teenager that turned out to be complete lies when fifteen minutes later, Mickey’s phone vibrated next to him on the sofa, waking him from his royal slumber.

“What?” he groaned, trying to rub the tiredness from his face Chris’ voice was nothing more than a whisper and sounded weirdly muffled through his phone.

“Mick, I’ve got some ginger information you might be interested in.”

Within seconds the drummer was on his feet, feeling dizzy from the sudden change of altitude.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Chris? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Um, it really isn’t. It’s like 20 to 4pm, man.” Mickey was in no mood to talk sleeping habits right now.

“CHRIS, why did you call me?” he asked sharply.

“Okay, yeah. Ian asked me if you had a boyfriend.”

_Interesting…_

“Oh how great, I’ll just go ahead and write that down in my diary. Jesus, Chris.” There were some more muffled noises, then a loud bang, then Chris cursing.

“Fucking hit my head on the thing you hang your clothes on in my closet.”

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“ _Why are you in your closet? Tell me you’re not hiding in there because Ian’s still there with you!”_

Chris didn’t answer and Mickey let himself flop back on the couch.

“… he’s not?”

That didn’t sound very convincing. Not even Chris himself believed what he was trying to sell his bandmate.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“ _Get the fuck out of there. You can’t hide in your closet when you have a guests. Jesus.”_ Sometimes, Chris’ stupidity was hard for Mickey to endure. This was one of these times. He hung up the phone and threw it onto the sofa next to him. It was like Chris purposely tried to act as stupid as possible, just so he could annoy the absolute fuck out of Mickey.

Anyways, he had other things to do now.

 

It was afternoon already and Mickey was still in his pajamas, having fallen asleep the night before while catching up on the latest episodes of Criminal Minds he had recorded on his TV while on tour. He rarely got a night in his own house, so when he got to have a night off, it was even better to just stay on the couch and eat everything in sight.

Mickey hopped into the shower, threw on some decent clothes and walked around the house, checking if there was anything he definitely had to hide before Ian came over to help him with his packing, or whatever meeting Meg had set up for them.

Of course, Gallagher was right on time and Mickey nervous as fuck, when he saw the outline of the new assistant manager through the milky glass of his front door. He made sure to take his time walking up to where this confusing Adonis of a man was waiting, to not seem like he had been pacing through his house for the last 40 minutes, checking the time every few seconds, which he totally had, but Ian sure didn’t need to know that.

With a last calming, deep breath, Mickey opened the door and couldn’t help but return the smile he was dazzled with. Ian’s hair was basically glowing in the sun, his freckles seemed to have tripled since the last time they saw each other and Mickey could already feel his head turn into mush.

“Hi!” They both said at the same time. Ian grinned and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the bright light. Mickey stepped aside and waved his hand to invite him into his home.

The way he saw it, things for him were very clear. Clearer than they had ever been, actually.

Mickey wanted Ian. He definitely wanted him, he _really_ wanted him. Ever since the night he had seen him in that bar in Chicago all he could think about was getting pinned down by that tall drink of water and getting pounded by what in Mickey’s imagination had become the most perfect dick that had ever existed. So if Ian wanted to play coy and make him work for it, he would work. Fuck, he had a few tricks up his cut off sleeves that would make the ginger change his mind in no time. Mickey was going in!

Whilst Mickey just stood there forging out his plan of attack, Ian looked around his hallway that was about the size of Chris’ whole apartment.

“This is a whole lot nicer than that shithole your friend lives in”, the redhead stated and shook his head about how little this imposing, showy house fit the drummer, who was dressed in dark sweatpants and a shirt of his own band.

Mickey shrugged and walked to the kitchen, Ian following him silently.

“He stays here most of the time anyways, so he figures, why spend money for things he doesn’t use, you know?”

Ian laughed.

“That seems like Chris.” Mickey nodded, a little smile on his face, then went on to rummage around his gigantic fridge. The whole kitchen was gigantic, as well as the rest of the house, Ian presumed. And there was just something about the small, muscular man almost disappearing in a fridge that seemed to be twice his size that made Ian want to see this over and over, every day, if possible.

While Ian sat on a barstool on the counter of the marble kitchen isle, Mickey had found what he was looking for and pulled a box of eggs and an impressive amount of bacon out of the fridge.

“You hungry?” he asked while turning on the hotplate and artistically throwing his spatula into the air. Ian laughed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Isn’t it a little late for breakfast food?”

Mickey gasped theatrically and cracked an egg into the pan.

“It’s never too late for breakfast food. So, how do you like your eggs?” Ian blinked. What a great setup.

“Massaged, mostly. Some light sucking maybe, if I’m feeling frisky. How about you?”

It took a few seconds for Mickey to process what he had heard, but his facial expression afterwards was so rewarding, Ian couldn’t help but laugh after he added a cheeky wink to his statement.

Mickey recovered himself rather quickly though and shrugged, while whisking the eggs around in his pan.

“You can find out anytime!”

That shut Ian up for the time being. While he sure was interested in finding out, he was still bound on his New Year’s Resolution to not be such a slut anymore. He just couldn’t live without a little teasing every once in a while.

As it turned out, Mickey was actually amazing at making eggs and bacon.

Not only did he look unbelievably hot cooking in general, he also seemed to have the knowhow and an impressively large cupboard full of different seasonings that were labelled in crooked handwriting that Ian wanted to believe was indeed Mickey’s own. The fiction that spun in Ian’s head of Mickey having a herb garden where he grew that stuff himself was probably false and also for another time when he wasn’t sitting across from the drummer.

After breakfast for dinner was served, they sat down at the kitchen table and Mickey turned on the TV that was hanging from the wall. He pushed the remote over to Ian and dug into his food.

“Stop looking at me weird, Gallagher, just pick something and eat before it gets cold!” he barked and almost suddenly smiled apologetically.

“Uh, please.”

Ian smiled into his food, then proceeded to go through Mickeys overflowing DVR recordings. A lot of the programs were exactly what the redhead would have expected to find there, but there was the occasional cooking show or documentaries about things Ian would have never thought Mickey was even remotely interested in.

In the end he opted for some episode of Game of Thrones which he didn’t really watch, mainly because the TV was usually broken, but it didn’t matter because sitting right next to Mickey, he couldn’t really concentrate on the TV anyways.

The food was delicious. Like so delicious, Ian had finished his portion in no time. Mickey noticed immediately. His mouth stretched into a smile that Ian couldn’t really interpret and he got up from his seat.

“Want some more?” he asked and was already on his way to a refill when Ian affirmed his question.

“Thanks, man. This tastes great.”

He tried to seem indifferent about the compliment, but from the corner of his eyes, Ian could see the proud smile on Mickeys face when he sat back down next to him.

Game of Thrones was only like an hour long and there was only so much Ian could eat, so after he had finished his plate, he decided, it was time to start working. He was getting paid for this after all. He got up and tried to grab his empty plate, but Mickey grabbed his wrist.

“No, don’t. I’ll clean up later.” Ian let go of the plate and shook his head.

“So polite”, he laughed and went to grab the packing list from his back pocket, “alright, where’s the luggage you’ve got so far?”

He turned around to where Mickey was standing, leaned against the counter, arms crossed ever so casually and waited for an answer. The drummer just shrugged.

“Oh, I finished packing like a week ago.”

He grinned so shamelessly that Ian could feel a rush going through his body. He was attracted to this sly dumbass that was for sure. But he wasn’t about to cave.

“So why am I here then?” Mickeys grin mirrored his own.

“Got something better to do?” Ian shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Oh come on, Gallagher. Stay a little longer. I’m sure we can find something to pass the time!” He winked playfully, but Ian was set on sticking to his resolutions. Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious, right?

“Like what?” Mickey lifted up his hand and counted his ideas on his fingers.

“Watch a movie? I got a home theater.” – “We just watched TV.”

“How about a few beers at the fireplace?” – “I don’t drink and drive.”

“The pool?” – “Can’t swim!”

Mickey laughed “I can make sure you won’t drown!” Oh, shit, that was a tempting offer. Trying not to be a slut was really hard when being presented with these kinds of opportunities.

Ian had to try his hardest to stay calm.

“I’m, uh, allergic, to…” Fuck, what was that thing in pool water again, Ian couldn’t think of it at all.  Mickey who was still leaning against his counter, looking as delicious as ever, raised his brows expectantly.

“to what?” Well, there was no way he was getting out of this one looking cool, so what the hell.

“water.”

The room was silent for a couple of seconds.

“To water?” Mickey asked mockingly. Ian shrugged. He could feel himself turning red.

“Uh, yeah. So, gotta go. I’ll see you on the plane tomorrow. Thanks for the food.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ian had left a couple of hours ago and still Mickey couldn’t wipe that stupid, stupid smile off his face. After his head had turned a surprisingly deep red, Ian had awkwardly shaken his hand and had then darted out of the house, slamming the door behind him. And although Mickey had never experienced someone basically taking flight to not have to hang out with him some more, he didn’t find that insulting at all. All he could think about was that dumbass redhead with the stupid freckles that made him want to do stupid stuff that he normally would never do.

He went to kitchen to clean the rests of their dinner/breakfast when his phone rang in his pocket. The picture on the screen showed a brunette girl with bangs and a beautiful face.

“What’s up, asshat?” He heard an annoyed scoff on the other end of the line, then Mandy blowing out smoke.

“Fuck you, Mickey.” Then they both didn’t say anything for a while, just like every time they talked on the phone. Mickey went to his bedroom to grab his smokes from the nightstand and headed outside to sit comfortably in one of his couches on the terrace. Mandy waited until she heard the lighter click, gave her big brother time for a deep drag, then their call was ready to begin.

“So how have you been, Bonnie?” Mandy laughed at the mention of their childhood nicknames.

“I’ve been great, _Clyde_ , just busy with classes and everything.”

Mandy was studying ballet at the Julliard Academy in New York, Mickeys present to her for her 18th birthday. She’d always had lessons, in secrecy of course, and when Mickey and the band made it big, Mickey finally had enough money to pay for his beloved sister’s college. Just like she had taken care of him all these years with Terry in the mix, it was now his pleasure to do everything he could to make sure Mandy got everything she ever wanted.

“Do you still enjoy being in New York? Everything okay with your apartment and everything?”

He could practically hear Mandy rolling her eyes.

“Everything’s great, Mick. I have everything I could ever need, so stop worrying, alright?”

Easier said than done, Mickey thought, but took a drag from his cigarette instead of asking more concerned brother questions. They talked for a while, about this and that, then Mickey was ready to break the news he had been dying to tell her.

“I got the tour dates, by the way!” Mickey beamed when he heard Mandy squeaking excitedly.

“So? Fucking tell me already, asshole?”

It was such a mystery to Mickey how a girl that swore like a sailor could ever be a ballerina, but apparently she didn’t have any problems. Unfortunately, Mickey hadn’t had a chance to see her perform yet, so everytime they got new tour dates, they were hopeful that the Southern Glow in New York and Mandy’s dance recital would overlap so Mickey would finally get to go to a show. Even if it was sneaking in the back and watching from behind some curtain somewhere, so he didn’t take the spotlight off the dancers.

“How’s your schedule for November?” he asked and his own heart beat a little faster in hopes of getting to see Mandy dance.

Her excited “FUCK YES” made Mickey so happy, he almost dropped his third cigarette.

“We dance every weekend in November, that’s gotta be possible, Mick.”

 

It was very possible. It was finally possible and after getting off the phone with Mandy, Mickey instantly texted Meg to make sure nothing was booked on said weekend.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile Ian was on his way back home. It took quite a while from where Mickey’s house was to where Ian and his family lived and from the nearest El station it was still a couple of minutes of walking through the Southside of Chicago until you reached the Gallagher household. There was a lot of noise and light coming from the fainted blue building and Ian took a deep breath before heading inside.

He had yet to tell Debbie about his new job and he wasn’t sure whether she was going to hug him of kill him, while Ian desperately hoped for the first option he wasn’t so sure Debbie would make the same call.

Inside the living room the Gallaghers were squeezed on their sofas, eating fast food and watching some weird documentary they all seemed to be extremely into, because nobody even turned his head when Ian walked through the door.

“Hey!” he called and a few of his siblings raised their hands as a greeting but mostly they just ignored him and kept staring at the TV Frank had once stolen for them.

So Ian wandered to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge when he noticed Debbie sitting at the kitchen table, alone reading one of those teen magazines.

“Hey Debs!” Ian greeted and his younger sister smiled at him.

“What’s up, Ian? Where have you been?”

“Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Could you put that down for a minute?” Ian gestured at the magazine with The Southern Glow on the front. Debbie shrugged and threw it onto the kitchen counter.

“What’s up?” she repeated, an interested look on her freckled face.

“Well,” Ian didn’t really know how to break the news to her, so he just stared at his fingers, afraid of Debbies reaction.

The girl waited for a couple of seconds, then she rolled her eyes, crossed her hands before her chest and leaned back in her chair.

“Is this about you working as a manager for The Southern Glow now?” Ian almost choked on his beer.

“How do you-?” he asked stunned. Debbie had the eye roll down pat.

“It’s in their newsletter, dumbass”, she shrugged.

Ian watched her closely, waiting for that punch that was destined to come for him not telling her sooner.

“Is that okay for you?”

Debbie smiled and got up from her chair. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be? It gets me free tickets to the show, right?”

It wasn’t a question, but if tickets were how he was going to pay for this, it was fine by Ian. He nodded relievedly but Debbie only raised her neatly plucked brows.

“Do you know you’ll get them or are you just hoping?”

Ian sighed.

“I’m not 100% sure yet, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem to get you tickets!”

That apparently wasn’t enough for Debbie.

“Call Mickey and make sure!” she commanded and Ian seriously asked himself where Debbie got all her confidence from.

There was no way he was getting out of this, so he got out his phone and dialed Mickey’s number.

“Put it on speaker!”

Ian did as he was told. It took a moment, but eventually, Mickey picked up.

“Did you change your mind about that whole pool thing?” His voice was smoky and low as always und Debbie squealed when she heard her idol talking.

Ian took one last breath then decided he had already embarrassed himself in front of the drummer, so there was no way begging for tickets for his teenage sister was going to make things worse.

“Hey Mickey, it’s Ian and Debbie. You’re on speaker.” He could hear Mickey huff out a laugh.

“Hey Debbs. How are you?” She dug her nails into Ian’s back and attempted to sound chill.

“Hey Mickey, uh, I’m great, thank you.”

There were a couple of moments of silence again, until Debbie punched Ian’s arm and reminded him of the purpose of this call.

“So I was just telling Debbie about the new job, but she’ll only allow it if she gets some free tickets to one of your sho- _ouch_ – **all** of your shows!”

Ian rubbed his shoulder soothingly to get rid of the pain that his sister’s punch left there.

“Sure, no problem, Debbie. You’re welcome whenever you like.”

Debbie nodded contently, twittered some sort of good-bye and disappeared up the stairs. Ian rolled his eyes and turned off the speaker on his phone.

“Thanks, Mickey. I think she would have legit killed me if she wouldn’t yield something from this arrangement, you know.”

Mickey laughed on the other end of the line and as much as Ian wished it hadn’t, it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach.

“So my offers still stand, Gallagher. Wanna come over and help pay for all these free tickets your sister’s gonna get?” Her heard the smirk in the drummer’s voice and huffed out a laugh.

“I thought I made my conditions very clear when we first met, Milkovich. I’m not that easy.”

Mickey wasn’t buying it. There was a sudden shift in his voice and then there was no audible smile in there anymore. That didn’t make him any less enticing though.

“Oh, but I think you are. You want me just much as I want you, Ian Gallagher.”

Goosebumps made their way up Ian’s spine at this new Mickey Milkovich that he hadn’t really met before, but he was not about to give in. He was a Gallagher after all.

“You wish, Milkovich!”

And with a frustrated huff he hung up the phone, grabbed that magazine with Mickey on the cover and disappeared into the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> [lggymilkovich ](http://lggymilkovich.tumblr.com) on tumblr  
>  Comments, Kudos, etc. are always appreciated. ☻


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